Chapter 72: The Awarding Ceremony
Lupin didn’t know how he walked out of the Three Broomsticks.
In fact, he had never thought that facing a 12-year-old young wizard, he thought he had the situation under control, but in reality, it was just that the other person was willing to talk to him more and ignored his threats.
Before this, he had never seen anyone use the Evanesco spell like that.
Also, that immense magical power that was no less than that of adult wizards!
He wandered out to the Shrieking Shack, washed his face with snow water, and only then managed to sober up. He cooperated with James Brown, and the two wizard werewolves, along with two Muggle werewolves, Apparated several times in succession, finally returning to London.
It was noon by the time they arrived. A fire had been lit at the camp, and dozens of women were squatting by the park lake washing clothes.
They dared not go too far, lest they step outside the range of the spells to guard and drive away Muggles from Peace Town.
When the figures of the four appeared at the edge of the forest, a woman was already shouting, “Barnaby and William are back! They’re back!”
Soon, from the largest tent in the center of the camp, emerged more than ten tall but gaunt werewolves.
Little Barnaby smiled happily and held up the money bag Vaughn had given him, “We saw Mr. Weasley, and he gave us tens of thousands of Pounds Sterling again…”
Everyone who heard this let out a cheer.
The werewolves who came out to greet them asked repeatedly, “Does Mr. Weasley have any other instructions?”
“When do we start?”
“Don’t worry everyone, we’ll discuss it when we get back!”
So the crowd surrounded Barnaby, William, and James, and went back into the tents. Lupin did not follow; he felt his mind was still not clear.
He walked to the lakeside and scooped up a handful of icy water, splashing it on his face.
The bone-chilling cold finally quieted his buzzing head a little. Just as he was about to go back, a little girl’s voice next to him made him stop:
“Mom, what are Pounds Sterling?”
The little girl looked to be about ten years old, wearing clothes made from blankets, and her shoes were roughly sewn from rabbit fur.
Her mother, a woman in her thirties with wrinkles all over her face, said, “Pounds Sterling is money. Money can be exchanged for food and clothes.”
“It’s like we use potatoes to exchange for animal hides with Uncle Abad?”
“Yes, it’s more powerful than potatoes. It can be exchanged for many, many things. Today, little Anya can eat her fill,” her mother said with a smile.
The little girl then showed a look of longing, her big eyes seeming to already see plenty of food.
She could eat until her belly was full!
“Mom, Mr. Weasley is such a good person.”
“Yes, he can also cure our illnesses. In the future, little Anya will also be able to go out and play, make many friends, and won’t have to be locked in a hole every full moon, scratching ourselves until we’re covered in wounds…”
Listening to her mother, the little girl’s eyes gradually became distant, a light appearing in them.
Lupin, who was listening secretly nearby, suddenly felt his eyes sting.
He covered his face, almost unable to look directly, afraid that if he wasn’t careful, he would shed tears—
He recognized the light in the little girl’s eyes.
It was hope…
He hurried away, yet the girl’s eyes wouldn’t leave his mind no matter what.
He couldn’t help but recall what Vaughn had said before.
Put aside prejudice and observe the camp!
For some reason, he did it involuntarily. He slowly paced around the camp, watching someone run far out and quickly return in a beat-up pickup truck loaded with food.
Some men and women unloaded the food, carrying it piece by piece. They were sweating profusely from exhaustion, but their faces were beaming with smiles.
Some brought out their own cured meats, and others brought out dried fruits they had prepared.
A plump witch, with gruesome bite marks still visible on her neck, smiled happily and waved a worn wand. A kitchen knife danced around her, showing that she was enjoying the pleasure of household chores after a long absence.
The tent flaps opened, and small children stumbled past his feet.
They held toys woven from grass or whittled from wood and ran to the “kitchen” where more than a dozen campfires were lit, looking on with their fingers in their mouths, saliva dripping. With every pot set up, they twitched their noses and drooled.
Lupin didn’t know when this change had occurred.
It seemed that as these wanderers emerged from the mountains and forests, they were shedding their numbness day by day.
Silently, they had “come alive.”
A mother and son brushed past him.
“What a good life it is…”
“Mom, will tomorrow also be a good day?”
“Yes, it certainly will be!”
“And the day after?”
“Yes! It must be!”
Lupin didn’t want to turn back to confirm the expression on the mother’s face; he had already heard her determination in her tone!
He had always thought that these people would respond to Vaughn’s call out of ignorance, which was why he had joined, with the intention of saving them, not hesitating to expose his identity—he had always hated his werewolf identity the most.
Now he knew; they were not ignorant, but rather…
No one had ever given them hope like this before!
…
As Vaughn returned from Hogsmeade, snow was still falling.
The strong winds of the Scottish Highlands seemed to blow incessantly whenever snowflakes fell.
His cloak billowing, Vaughn waded through the accumulated snow and walked along a winding path, seeing the majestic figure of Hogwarts Castle in the wind and snow.
And the white landscape contrasted with the dark depths of the Forbidden Forest and mountains in the distance, stretching to the horizon.
As he reached the main gate of Hogwarts, he saw Dumbledore standing at the entrance. The wind was lifting his long beard, and Fawkes, not yet fully grown, was perched quietly on his shoulder.
When Vaughn approached, Dumbledore opened the door for him:
“After Fudge returned to the Ministry of Magic, he immediately convened a ministry meeting to discuss inviting reporters from other European countries to attend your awarding ceremony. He said it’s called a press conference… You truly saw through him.”
Vaughn didn’t care what kind of person Fudge was: “What was the result?”
Dumbledore smiled and winked at him: “Barty Crouch tried to stop it, thinking that the Order of Merlin, Second Class, didn’t need to be too grand. But this only strengthened Fudge’s idea. A senior investigating official named Dolores Umbridge used the opportunity to attack Barty Crouch for obstructing the principles of international cooperation…”
“Heh, politics…”
“Yes, politics. It makes ambitious people greedy, and greedy people mad. Fudge convened the Wizengamot, of course, he deliberately notified me a few minutes late. In short, he ultimately bypassed the Department of International Magical Cooperation and sent invitations to media outlets from over a dozen countries.”
Speaking, he looked down at Vaughn: “Everything is as you wished.”
Vaughn spread his hands: “I didn’t push for it, I just suggested it, you understand?”
“Heh heh…”
Dumbledore said no more. The two walked into the castle. He waved his hand, and the heavy castle doors closed, shutting out the wind and snow.
Fudge was working very hard.
He announced to the outside world that a conclusion had been reached regarding the ownership of Wolfsbane Potion, and its inventor, Vaughn Weasley, would announce the transfer of ownership at the awarding ceremony. At that time, discussions could be held regarding the export of Wolfsbane Potion.
Over the next two days, under his lobbying, France, Germany, Greece, Denmark, Bulgaria, and other countries successively confirmed that they would send liaisons and reporters.
Even the reclusive Magical Congress of North America indicated they would not be absent.
After all, other countries also had a great need for Wolfsbane Potion; the spread of Lycanthropy knew no borders or races.
When the international stir was reported back to England, it caused an even wider discussion. The Daily Prophet had been reporting on such matters extensively in recent times.
“A spokesperson for the French Ministry of Magic stated that the emergence of Wolfsbane Potion has given France hope for alleviating the threat of Lycanthropy, and sincerely congratulates Mr. Vaughn Weasley on receiving the Order of Merlin, Second Class.”
“German Ministry of Magic liaisons and reporters have already departed…”
“The Ministry of Magic is constructing a new building in Diagon Alley to serve as a hall and accommodation for invited guests. It is reported that Gringotts was temporarily shifted 10 feet to accommodate this, which greatly displeased the goblins. Madam Malkin next door, however, was very happy, claiming that in all her years of business, she had finally seen the sky that morning…”
“Rumors circulated in magazines such as The Quibbler yesterday claiming that Cornelius Fudge was attempting to build his own werewolf army by controlling Wolfsbane Potion. The editor-in-chief of The Quibbler, Lovegood, accused Fudge of abusing his power, which Fudge vehemently denied!”
“A wizard named Damocles Belby claimed that he was also researching Wolfsbane Potion and was close to success. He told reporters that he was currently very frustrated because he had been studying it for 5 years and experimented with a large quantity of materials, only to be a step behind in progress… When asked if his research might have been leaked, Belby denied this, believing that Vaughn Weasley’s research progress far surpassed his, possibly due to the superiority of the Magic Power Extraction Method…”
In the Hogwarts Dining Hall, Ron put down the newspaper with an incredulous expression: “Did you hear that? Rita Skeeter, that woman, she actually didn’t incite trouble in her report. If it were before, she would have maliciously concluded that Vaughn plagiarized this Belby fellow.”
Harry, chewing bread, asked vaguely, “Rita Skeeter? Who is that?”
“A lying woman,” Ron said with disgust, then a little dejectedly. “But the adults believe her words very much. My mom especially loves reading her reports.”
Harry glanced at the newspaper: “I can’t tell, she’s reporting quite fairly.”
“Heh heh, she was the one who interviewed Vaughn last time, wasn’t she? Maybe she angered Vaughn then and he cast an Evil Curse on her!”
Ron habitually bad-mouthed his brother.
Then he received a glare from Hermione. She had returned to school last night. “If you have time to be jealous of Vaughn, why don’t you write your homework? I can’t believe neither of you wrote a single word during the Christmas holidays—”
Ron mumbled, “Who would be jealous of him…”
But since he still had to copy Hermione’s homework, he only dared to grunt a couple of times. Harry opposite him buried his head in his plate, pretending to be engrossed in eating and hearing nothing.
Despite Ron’s words of not being jealous, when he saw Vaughn, dressed in formal attire and accompanied by Dumbledore, appear in the dining hall, he was so envious that his mouth watered.
The moment Vaughn appeared, discussions erupted all around.
“Today is the awarding day, right?”
“Yes, it seems Dumbledore is taking him. That’s great, Order of Merlin, Second Class. I’d bet he’s the youngest recipient of any Order of Merlin!”
“Hey, Ron, aren’t you going to your brother’s awarding ceremony?”
Ron stammered. Of course, he wanted to go, but Vaughn hadn’t invited him at all.
This fact suddenly made him lose his appetite. After a moment of dejection, he couldn’t help but say to Harry, “Harry, you should also receive an Order of Merlin, you know. You killed the Dark Lord at the age of 1, and if you got an award, I’d bet there wouldn’t be anyone younger than you!”
This time it was Harry’s turn to stammer. Sometimes he really wanted to open Ron’s skull and see what was inside.
Vaughn ignored the surrounding discussions.
He calmly finished his breakfast. Seeing Dumbledore raise his hand, he grabbed onto it.
Fawkes, who had been like a chick just two days prior, had grown its feathers back, indicating it had regained its magic and could Apparate.
After a distortion of space, the two had arrived in Diagon Alley. Vaughn, gradually adapting to Apparition without feeling nauseous, glanced at Fawkes.
The phoenix was so startled that its feathers bristled and it vanished with a *biu*.
Dumbledore blinked: “Who told you to use it to block the Killing Curse? You have to be careful, Fawkes holds a grudge!”
Vaughn didn’t mind not getting a phoenix feather and retorted with a smile: “What kind of owner, what kind of pet. It seems it’s as petty as a certain old man!”
Dumbledore was not offended at all, stroked his beard, and laughed heartily.
The awarding ceremony and press conference were to be held in Diagon Alley, so it certainly wouldn’t be outdoors. Fudge was hoping today would be the highlight of his tenure.
Two days prior, from the moment the press conference’s scale was confirmed, Fudge had issued an order to temporarily add a building next to Gringotts in Diagon Alley.
This request, which would be considered absurd by Muggles, was not uncommon in the Wizarding World.
The Ministry’s wizards simply needed to stretch the passageway space between Gringotts and the adjacent building, creating a 10-foot wide clearing, and then use magic to remove the soil to establish the foundation. After that, the rest was simple.
They placed a miniature building, like a model, on that foundation, and after a few enlargement spells, a magnificent hall sprang into existence!
As for Gringotts being shifted 10 feet, which displeased the goblins, Mr. Fudge didn’t care.
He was now standing in front of the hall with a beaming smile, welcoming every arriving guest, shaking their hands, and posing for photos.
“Ah, Mr. Quill, welcome. How is your grandfather? Yes, yes, he was a great man…”
“Ms. Jenkins, please come in. To trouble you to come all this way in such cold weather… Yes, it’s busy, but we’re all enjoying it, aren’t we?”
“Mr. Ollivander, you’ve arrived too. Today is a happy day, isn’t it? Oh, wands? Of course, I…”
Fudge finally met his match. He was firmly grasped by the arm by the elderly Ollivander, who then rambled in a reedy voice about the personalities of wands like a madman.
Consequently, when Fudge saw Vaughn and Dumbledore approaching, he looked as if he had seen angels and quickly pushed away Ollivander’s withered claw.
He enthusiastically embraced Dumbledore, then slung an arm around Vaughn’s shoulder, facing the media: “Look here, gentlemen, today’s protagonist has arrived!”
Flashes of light erupted from the cameras.
Flashes, flashes!
Pulled by Fudge, wherever Vaughn went, he was met with a sea of flashing lights.
Dumbledore had gone somewhere. Fudge and the media he had brought deliberately ignored the old man. The minister, now deeply engrossed in the delicious taste of power, was eager to diminish the influence of those who had once supported him the most.
He only wanted to appear with Vaughn before every guest, introducing him as England’s Potions Prodigy, and was very happy to showcase their “friendship.”
“Vaughn, this is Mr. Francis, the liaison from France. Dear Francis, this is Vaughn Weasley… Hey, Aerel, is it really you who came this time…”
“…Haha, don’t be so surprised, gentlemen, I assure you nothing in the newspapers is exaggerated, 12 years old, a Potions Master!”
“In fact, I find it as hard to believe as you do. I only met him once when he was very young… Oh, you might not know, his father and I were colleagues, close friends who talked about everything. I dare say Arthur must be overjoyed to have such a promising son, what a lucky bastard!”
Vaughn felt his face was about to freeze from smiling. He was surrounded by well-dressed officials, their gazes benevolent as they listened intently to Fudge’s praise and boasting, responding with approving applause.
Among them were liaisons from various countries, as well as some powerful figures from the English Wizarding World, such as members of a Pure-blood family that had once produced a Minister for Magic.
Fudge had completely turned this press conference into a stage to expand his network and display his value. He hoped that the Pure-bloods in power would see that he was about to possess a vast force, and the foundation of this vast force, Wolfsbane Potion, would be handed over to him by its inventor today.
Vaughn cooperated with him, while in reality, he was observing coldly.
Those foreign liaisons were also part of Fudge’s display of value. The newspapers had not exaggerated; the spread of Lycanthropy was a troublesome issue in every country.
The reason it had never been openly discussed was that past efforts by various countries had all ended in failure.
Before a decisive solution was found, countries, like England before, maintained a few dispensable departments within their ministries (such as the Werewolf Registration Office, the Werewolf Capture Task Force, etc.) to show they had made an effort, but the werewolves were uncooperative.
It had to be said that Fudge was actually a very intelligent person. He had keenly grasped the needs of various countries. After hearing Vaughn mention the concept of a press conference, he immediately shifted to an international perspective.
By leveraging the fame of Wolfsbane Potion, he attracted international attention, and then used that international attention to promote his own multifaceted value to the Pure-bloods.
Although in reality, his stage had made a wedding dress for Vaughn.
But that was also because Vaughn was too young, and in Fudge’s eyes, he was a naive and somewhat foolish child. He would easily believe Vaughn’s promise. Otherwise, given the abilities he displayed, he might have truly achieved a magnificent transformation with today’s opportunity.
“Thinking about it, I feel a little embarrassed…”
Vaughn’s conscience twitched for 0.1 seconds.
The hall was an Alchemical Marvel, its age unknown. Based on its ornate Baroque style, it might have originated in the 16th century.
Today, this building with complex geometric patterns, filled with crystal chandeliers, and so opulent that every brick seemed to exude luxury, likely an antique, was already full.
The oval hall was divided into two levels. Wizengamot and Order of Merlin members sat on the second floor, overlooking the main stage. Seated in the front was a stern witch.
Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Chief Lumos of the Wizengamot, was responsible for leading the Wizengamot members in witnessing the creation of a new Order of Merlin.
And to notarize the ownership of Wolfsbane Potion.
The Order of Merlin was primarily responsible for awarding the medal and recognizing Vaughn as a member of the Order of Merlin. Since many members of the Order of Merlin had joined the Wizengamot, the distinction between the two was not significant.
As everyone took their seats and the awarding ceremony was about to begin, Vaughn looked up and could only see patches of purple robes over there.
Then, he saw Amelia Bones.
The stern witch nodded at him, and Vaughn returned the gesture.
On the stage beside them, Mr. Fudge had already walked onto the main stage. He held his wand to his throat and delivered a passionate, lengthy speech full of platitudes.
The content was nothing more than the significance of Wolfsbane Potion to the Wizarding World and the problems it could solve. The speech was very long, only eliciting a burst of laughter when he made a piece of British humor, saying that with Wolfsbane Potion, countries would no longer have to worry about assigning werewolf issues to which department, because a separate department could be established for it.
After speaking for more than twenty minutes, he extended his hand to Vaughn in the audience under the flashing camera lights, his face flushed:
“Let us welcome the inventor of Wolfsbane Potion, the new Potions Master, Mr. Vaughn Weasley!”
Applause thundered!
The flashes from the cameras blurred into a white haze before Vaughn’s eyes. Fudge shook hands and embraced him warmly, then stepped down to the stage with a smile. A plump woman in a pink knitted dress leaned over and whispered compliments, making Fudge beam with satisfaction.
Vaughn withdrew his gaze, his eyes calm and indifferent.
On the second floor, Amelia Bones stood up. She unfurled the scroll in her hand, and magic made her voice loud and authoritative:
“The Wizengamot hereby witnesses: Werewolves and Lycanthropy have always troubled the world. Many exceptionally gifted wizards have attempted to solve this problem, but their magic and wisdom ultimately succumbed to this disease. For a thousand years, it has accompanied every wizard’s growth, becoming an unshakeable pain. Some have despaired and declared Lycanthropy a curse from the world upon wizards.”
“December 26, 1991. This is a moment worthy of historical record. The Wolfsbane Potion invented by Mr. Vaughn Weasley has resolved this thousand-year-old pain, making the chaos and savagery of werewolves a thing of the past. Therefore, the Order of Merlin has decided to award Mr. Vaughn Weasley the Order of Merlin, Second Class, and invite him to become a member of the Order and the Wizengamot!”
She closed the scroll, looked down at Vaughn, and asked in a grand voice:
“Mr. Vaughn Weasley, do you have any objections?”
“No objections!”
Hearing this, in a solemn silence, Amelia Bones cast the scroll aside.
The scroll was an alchemical item. It transformed in mid-air into a golden medal with a purple ribbon, landing on Vaughn’s chest.
Amelia Bones smiled slightly: “Welcome, Mr. Vaughn Weasley!”
With her words, applause erupted like thunder.
The applause continued for some time, but not too long, as it was time for the customary speech by the medal recipient.
Many knew that the inventor of Wolfsbane Potion was preparing to announce the transfer of ownership of Wolfsbane Potion at this event.
Fudge’s plump face glowed with joy, and some people whispered among themselves, looking at his back.
Vaughn, his gaze sweeping over everything, nodded to Fudge. Fudge responded with a friendly and cheerful smile, which further amplified the murmurs below.
Vaughn smiled slightly: “It seems everyone already knows what my acceptance speech will be.”
The crowd below chuckled.
“But…”
Whenever there is a “but,” something is bound to happen. Fudge, who was speaking quietly with Umbridge beside him, felt a sudden jolt upon hearing this word.
He looked up at the child on the main stage who still needed to stand on a stool to be taller than the lectern.
That child, who always showed a innocent smile in front of him, had become indifferent at some point—
“But, before I make my announcement, I have a few other words to say.”
